


delirium

by bubblewrapstargirl



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clay Jensen gets an actual diagnosis, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Mental Health Issues, Spoilers: it's not just 'anxiety and depression'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: Clay wakes up in the hospital, with no recollection of why. Things only get stranger from there.[03 Jan 2021- ON HIATUS: As you know, this world is kinda tearing at the seams and I just don't have enough time right now to give these stories what they deserve. Seemy profilefor more info/to contact me. I will not be replying to comments on fics until further notice.]
Relationships: Justin Foley & Clay Jensen
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	delirium

**Author's Note:**

> That one fic where I try to show what S4 might have been like if there were consequences/repercussions for serious incidents like drunk driving, undiagnosed metal disorders and the general reckless behaviour of many main characters. Divergent from S04xE05 "House Party".

When Clay woke up, the world was a bright haze of indistinct shapes and sounds. There was only a fuzzy feeling of warmth, sure safety: he felt untroubled, cared for but overwhelmingly sleepy. He fell back into the abyss without consciously registering the soft hold on his hand, even though he reflexively returned the grip.

The second time he woke was more distinct. Clay blinked rapidly, despite his eyelashes initially feeling as though they’d been glued together. He attempted to squirm in discomfort, but his body was heavy and uncooperative, and he only succeeded in twitching ineffectively. It was enough to rouse the interest of the room’s only other occupant; the hallucination of Justin that had been sticking close to him lately. Justin had been pillowed on his hands, asleep, but now he blinked awake and sat up sharply when he saw Clay staring back at him, wide-eyed.

Clay wanted to ask Justin what had happened, why he felt so disorientated and lousy. But he’d learnt the hard way that the imagined shades of the dead never had any answers for him. Or at least not ones that weren’t in some way guesses or assumptions, that came from Clay himself. They were only figments of his imagination, after all. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but found there was something lodged in his throat, preventing him. Sucking in with a panicked gulp, Clay began squirm and flail at the alien sensation, wanting to scrabble at his face to get the thing out. Justin sat up in alarm, and grabbed onto Clay’s twitching arm. The sensation of his ‘ghost’ fingers felt surprisingly tangible, but Clay’s hallucinations weren’t limited to sight alone. He regularly interacted with them. But Clay wasn’t yet lucid enough to be comforted by the touch, and in the vice-grip of terror his mind gave up, protecting him by pulling him back under.

Eventually, when Clay awoke again, the breathing tube was removed, and he was finally lucid enough to swiftly recognise the hospital room for what it was. He immediately looked for his dead brother, and was relieved to find that Justin was still there, watching over him. At the other side of the bed sat his parents: his mother was clasping onto his hand.

“Clay, baby, you’re awake,” she said with a watery smile, “How are you feeling, honey?”

“I’m going to get the nurse,” said Matt with an encouraging smile, patting gently Clay on one of his legs before he left.

“M’ fine,” Clay managed to rasp, his throat parched, and his mother immediately offered him a cup of water with a bendy straw, obviously prepared in anticipation of him waking.

Clay sipped gratefully, vaguely ill at ease with the whole situation. His body ached, but it was generalised, all over, and not a specific region he could pinpoint. None of his limbs were in casts or obviously injured, though his head felt heavier than usual, and he was groggy, like his nose had been stuffed with cotton wool. When he finished the cup and Lainie moved back to refill it, Clay risked a glance and a smile at Justin, somewhat surprised he was lingering this long. His hallucinations usually took off when other people were speaking to him. Clay shifted uneasily, taking the opportunity to touch a hand to his head, where it felt strange and bulky, to find a bandage there.

“They had to shave it a little on your right, to give you stitches,” his mother explained, “They were afraid you’d cracked your skull, but you didn’t, thank god. You had a hairline fracture though, which is still serious but you’re okay. You’re going to be just fine.”

Her tired but relieved smile and reassuring tone did wonders to make Clay believe her words and calm his disquiet. But still, a strange sensation of uncanniness lingered. Something was off, but Clay couldn't quite pin-point his finger on what exactly was wrong.

Matt returned with a nurse who began to adjust Clay’s monitors, quickly followed by a doctor, who asked him a series of questions, like his name and who the president was. The only hiccup was when they asked for the date, and Clay struggled to remember, before settling on ‘September’.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked the doctor, looking grim and serious.

“Tony and I were driving,” said Clay, “We were in Missouri, I think. Just on the border with Illinois. We were making good time. Where is he? Is he okay?”

The doctor exchanged a look with his parents.

“What?” said Clay with rising panic, “Tony’s okay, right? Is he here too?”

“Tony’s fine, sweetheart,” said Lainie quickly at Clay’s mounting distress. She sat on the bed beside him and gave his covered chest a soothing, gentle pat.

“Tony wasn’t in the car with you, during the accident,” Matt attempted to clarify for him, but it only made Clay more confused. He desperately wanted to look to Justin for comfort, but knew he couldn’t afford to risk behaving suspiciously in front of a doctor. The last thing he ever wanted was to be held under psych observation again.

“I don’t understand,” Clay began, “Why would I have been driving without him?”

“Can you elaborate some more for us?” said the doctor, whose name he had already forgotten.

“The last thing I remember was driving to college with Tony. We made it into a summer road trip. We went to Vegas, and the Grand Canyon. It was incredible, Mom.”

His mother smiled at him again, but it had lost that reassuring, comforting edge. This smile seemed a lot less like encouragement, and much more sad.

“What about before then?”

Clay frowned deeply, wondering what the doctor was getting at. He surreptitiously glanced at Justin again, and his dead brother slipped his hand over Clay’s atop the covers, giving it a comforting squeeze. It gave him the strength to continue speaking, despite the increasingly brittle, fixed smiles on his parent’s faces that were clearly hiding their inner malaise.

“We graduated. I met a girl going to the same college and we started hanging out. Heidi, she came to dinner that time?”

His parents said nothing, so Clay forged on; “It was a quiet summer. I left with Tony. That’s it.”

“Clay, I’m going to talk with your parents for a short while, okay? You did great, all you need to do now is relax and focus on healing,” the doctor replied, “I’ll be back shortly to discuss the injuries and abrasions you received, as well as your treatment going forwards. But I have no doubt you’ll be out of here in no time. You were very lucky.”

Dissatisfied, but aware she would try to give him the run around if he made more of a fuss about whatever it was they were clearly hiding, Clay’s head thumped back into his pillows reluctantly. He turned to Justin as soon as they were gone, pleased that he had stuck around this long.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted softly.

“Dude, of course,” said Justin, “Where else would I be?”

He gave Clay’s hand another gentle squeeze, and this time Clay returned it, clinging on to what might be his only anchor, in the face of the confusion and futility of life.


End file.
